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He swallowed, his eyes jumping back to her face. That kind of ogling was very rude, and he knew better. Clearing his throat, he moved around the fire, extending a hand, “Jori Mountainside”.
She hesitantly extended her hand like his, looking as though she weren’t sure what it meant, he shook it anyway. Her hand was small in his, yet her grasp firm.
“I’m Jori. Arrived with the storm,” he said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder toward the mangled plane.
“Kymri Steelscale.” Her gaze flitted to the craft, but she otherwise seemed unsurprised by his presence. Or unimpressed. He wasn’t sure which. She wasn’t giving him much.
He frowned.
She resembled the woman from his rescue dream.
That couldn’t be. Could it?
He wasn’t sure how to react to her presence, let alone her guarded interaction.
Women were usually much more friendly and welcoming. How to navigate this?
“So, you’re a local?” he asked, cringing.
She nodded, her gaze studied him, and he suddenly felt exposed and vulnerable.
“Can I get you some coffee? I just finished making it.”
She looked to the area he’d been sitting and saw the metal pot by the fire, a little metal cup nearby.
She nodded, “Thank you.”
He let out a breath and moved to pour a cup, then held it outstretched, “It’s still hot.”
Her gaze dropped back to the pot beside the fire then leveled on him.
Why did she make him feel like an awkward teen again? This was embarrassing. Turning away, he retrieved his own cup and took a generous swallow. It wasn’t quality coffee, but it was still coffee.
Watching him, she raised the cup to her lips and tilted, tasting the liquid, her gaze still watching him over the rim. His eyes were glued to hers, yet he noticed the bright color of her nail polish where her fingers curled around the metal cup. Her expression changed. He wasn’t sure what it meant.
“Do you have radios on or near this island? I’d like to contact the mainland to get someone out to help with my plane.”
She shook her head, “Not here.” She didn’t elaborate.
“Somewhere nearby?”
She shrugged, “Maybe.”
Maybe? “What’s going on here? Either there is or there isn’t.”
The cup lowered from her face, her hands dropping. “Why are you here?”
He frowned, “I’m stranded,” he said, not sure what she was getting at. The wreck was clearly visible.
“Why were you flying over these waters?”
The hair on the back of his neck rose a little. His gaze scanned the darkness beyond the glow of the campfire. Something unseen lurked. Something dangerous was ready to pounce if he didn’t choose his words carefully.
“I’m exploring.”
“Why?”
“Why does it matter?” He was becoming exasperated by her blunt questions.
